Great Song
The Shower Scene
Brand New
It's funny how your worst enemies always seem to turn
out to be all of your best friend's best friends.
But I folded and I told.
These aren't things I've saved to sing you,
but I folded and I told.
So draw or throw and I will explode.
It's time for you to choose, the bullet or the chapstick.
Or "you are far too cute..." or whatever he said.
Every time I hear it (him) I am wishing I was great.
I wished her (past tense) my best friend.
But then I folded and I told.
These aren't things I say to save me.
But I folded, I told.
I hope she's caught in the explosion.
It's time for you to choose, the bullet or the chapstick.
Or "you are far too cute..." or whatever he said.
It's time for you to choose, the bullet or the chapstick. (It's time for you to choose)
This is me in his room.
This is me in his room.
This is me in his room.
So I update this almost every single day for you. (Red. Gold. I told.)
I begin to hate you for your face and not just the things you go. (We don't play fair.)
So go tell him why my wrist is sore, (Red. Gold. I told.)
from pulling out your insides all night.
Nothing that you do is new to anything or anyone but you. (We never stand too close)
Brand New
It's funny how your worst enemies always seem to turn
out to be all of your best friend's best friends.
But I folded and I told.
These aren't things I've saved to sing you,
but I folded and I told.
So draw or throw and I will explode.
It's time for you to choose, the bullet or the chapstick.
Or "you are far too cute..." or whatever he said.
Every time I hear it (him) I am wishing I was great.
I wished her (past tense) my best friend.
But then I folded and I told.
These aren't things I say to save me.
But I folded, I told.
I hope she's caught in the explosion.
It's time for you to choose, the bullet or the chapstick.
Or "you are far too cute..." or whatever he said.
It's time for you to choose, the bullet or the chapstick. (It's time for you to choose)
This is me in his room.
This is me in his room.
This is me in his room.
So I update this almost every single day for you. (Red. Gold. I told.)
I begin to hate you for your face and not just the things you go. (We don't play fair.)
So go tell him why my wrist is sore, (Red. Gold. I told.)
from pulling out your insides all night.
Nothing that you do is new to anything or anyone but you. (We never stand too close)